


Just Chilling

by SuperSilverSpy



Series: Dick "Whumptober" Grayson [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson-centric, Dicktober, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Jason Todd Has a Heart, SilverGrayson, Stabbed Hand, SuperSilverSpy, Whumptober 2020, injuries, jason Todd is a good bro, whumpage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSilverSpy/pseuds/SuperSilverSpy
Summary: “ev'n if the h*** we gave ‘im didn't scare good ’nough, he definitely ain't goin' anywhere an’time soon, the cold'll do the trick,” comes the response. Looks like there’s another body to find.“Good,” the man says back “th' boss'll be glad to finally 'ave Grayson out've our hair.”Scratch that, there’s about to be two dead bodies someone else needs to deal with, and now he’s got a damsel in distress to rescue. Great.OR a whumptober prompt combined with a bingo prompt from my “Golden Boy Whump” series, I figure it’s double the whump
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Dick "Whumptober" Grayson [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939666
Comments: 21
Kudos: 183





	Just Chilling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedRobinYuuum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRobinYuuum/gifts), [Sidhe13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidhe13/gifts).



> Prompts:
> 
> “What about something where dick is taken and hurt and gets left someplace cold and he starts to go hypothermic so Jason (or whoever you prefer) finds him and in addition to taking care of his injuries they have to try to warm him up before it becomes fatal“
> 
> “Can we get the stomped hand changed to a stabbed hand. Like through the hand, pinned to the floor or wall and just stuck there for a while.  
> Bonus points if Jason has to yank it out because its lodged so deep into the wood and cracks some bad jokes before falling on his ass when it comes loose.”

Jason was just minding his business, busting some idiots “under the radar”, as he’d been tracking them for quite some time and somehow they ended up in Blüdhaven.

Get in, and get out. What Dickie doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and if Goldie does find out, Jason will be long gone by then.

Moving silently, the thugs on guard go down first. Seriously, they should find something better to do, or at least get a little higher up in the chain. Guarding is practically a death- jail sentence where bats are involved.

He sneaks around in the roof for a while, spying on the drug trade going on down below. The opposing party arrives, and Hood makes his entrance. 

Down go the smoke pellets and boom boom boom.

At least half won’t be getting up anytime soon, and _no_ he didn’t kill any. He thinks.

The biggest baddies get special treatment in the form of pistol whips and cuffs.

As Hood’s just finishing up, he hears a noise. Must be reinforcements, or a patrol that went off course and missed the action.

Gunshots may be common, but even this would attract some attention. He makes his way over, crouching on the roof above them- there’s two and they appear to have come from somewhere else, a nondescript truck that wasn’t there before sits not too far away.

One of the perp’s voice carries “You take care of th’t nosy little b****** yet?” 

“Hehe, we gave ‘im the _special_ treatment if y’know what I mean.” Jason knows, and he pities the poor guy, must’ve gotten in too far and paid the consequences.

“How’d it go? ‘e know anythin’?” The other asks. It must’ve been a special job, ‘interrogation’ by torture, fun.

“Nah, an’ even if he did, we couldn’t get it, th’ boy held out tha’s for sure.” A brave one then, too bad. Whoever it was, his heart certainly was in the right place.

“Sounds like you admire ‘im.”

A scowl, “I _don’t_.”

“The _pest’s_ dead, then?” the pair near the corner, and Hood prepares to encroach on the scene below, he just needs to hear this next part. Who knows? Might even be a 15% chance he’ll save the b******, if he’s not too hard to find- and is still alive of course. The odds are small, but there’s been worse before, and after all the Red Hood is known for his unpredictability. Otherwise Jason will just figure out the general area and leave a tip maybe, about the body. Dickhead seems like the type to waste time on something like this.

  
“ev'n if the h*** we gave ‘im didn't scare good ’nough, he definitely ain't goin' anywhere an’time soon, the cold'll do the trick,” comes the response. Looks like there’s another body to find.

“Good,” the man says back “th' boss'll be glad to finally 'ave Grayson out've our hair.”

Scratch that, there’s about to be two dead bodies someone else needs to deal with, and now he’s got a damsel in distress to rescue. Great.

  
  


* * *

Dick woke to a pounding skull, and the very much unwelcome pain _everywhere._ Most importantly, he soon discovered after doing something _totally_ not stupid- like moving his- his hand. F***, agony shoots up, making it’s merry way all along his arm, to his head, and- and he may or may not have _temporarily_ blacked out, most likely.

At least the memory of how this happened comes back, and that’s pleasant. He’d been exiting the precinct at a ridiculously late hour (considering Dick had gotten there at five), and being exhausted, had gone down more easily than he would have. As it was, the most recent case he’d been given was more on his mind than- a… tranq he’s guessing? That sharp prick in his neck, and by then it was too late.

Dragged for a while, dropped; then bound and beaten. Words, fuzzing around in his head, along with the sharp pain of the following memories. They… wanted to know how much he knew about that one case… tried to scare him. Soaked to the bone, after being shoved, repeatedly into a thing, and tub of sorts- filled with ice cold water. It is Blüdhaven winter after all, and his entire top half was subject to that terrible, freezing _numb._

( _Resisting the urge to gasp on instinct, shock overtaking his system- heavy on the over- Dick tried not to struggle even as he found it impossible to relax._

_Must. Conserve. Energy._

_He was trained for this, or rather something like it, but his body was sore, and the drugs hadn’t yet completely left his system._

_Groggy and disoriented, he gasped,_ **_heaved_ ** _for breath whenever possible. Pausing only a few times to curse at his captors._

_“I wouldn’t tell y-”_

_“-even if I did kn- !”)_

Anyway, back to the present.

He looks around, having not been able to get a good look around the place earlier. The sky rests right above him, exposed by the half rotted through roof of the sh**y warehouse he currently finds himself in. There’s no insulation, and plenty of snow and ice, everywhere. It’s just wonderful, especially since he stopped shivering after the fourth time they dunked him in that tub of _ice cold_ water.  
  
Also, there’s a _knife_ in his _hand_ . It didn’t just magically appear there, Dick distinctly remembers the blinding flash of pure _agony_ he'd felt when it went in, or rather through. The tearing _inside_ of said appendage made a very, unforgettable noise; thanks for that, memory.

He doesn’t panic, of course, just lays there for a while. Does some more admittedly stupid things like attempting to rip it out with his other arm, the one that’s attached to a dislocated shoulder, _of course._ He pulls at it some more (weakly) with stiffened arms, looks around desperately only to find there’s nothing of use within arms reach, haha.

There are other things that he discovers. For instance, there is absolutely nothing useful to him in this stupid uniform, it doesn’t tear easily enough (he’s too weak to get it off), the thing is going to freeze him to death, it doesn’t matter how ‘pinned’ a thing is, it’s still going to shake when he shivers (and by when he means all the d*** time), and most if not all of his ribs are badly bruised.  
  


The hand is a first, and he’s long overdue for another meet with hypothermia, Dick supposes. This will be fun.

* * *

It takes him an _hour,_ an hour to track down the lost bird. He almost considered leaving the man, surely Goldie could handle himself. “Almost” being the key word.

Video of the Big Bird’s capture isn’t hard to find, and Jason can’t help but be impressed at how much damage Dick manages to do to his captors for how absolutely _wrecked_ he looks. The tranq didn’t get him immediately, and the baddies moved in too soon. One got a sloppy right hook for his troubles, and another tripped over the downed detective’s something, he wasn’t sure. The video was grainy at best and controlling a struggling bat is no easy feat, even if said man is being drugged to the gills and incredibly exhausted.

Well, there was a good reason for that condition, as Hood soon finds. A certain “Officer Grayson” had worked at _least_ 60 hours that week at the precinct, being called in on both Saturday and Sunday, giving a new meaning to the word “overtime”. That meant Dickie would’ve had five hour patrols and less than four hours of sleep, Jason frowned, and how much did the fuzz earn? Hardly anything was the answer. Goldie was going to get a break after this, and he would call Alfie in if he had to.

Finding out where they took him is the hard part. After the initial knock out, most cameras are expertly avoided. It’s not professional, and certainly not a _great_ job, but it does slow him down somewhat. Enough that by the time he gets there, the Golden Boy is staring, unfocused and pale, with unnaturally coloured lips, and slow, slow breathing. The man’s not shivering, he notes as he nears, catching sight of the stiffness of frost coating the elder’s ragged shirt- they must’ve taken his coat. Hood swallows the _feelings,_ and whistles, “wow Dickie I’ve got to hand it to ya, only you manage to get into these kinds of situations.”

“J-Jaaay?” He doesn’t care, he _doesn’t_. There’s another reason why he falters, why the next joke dies on his tongue.

“Yeah Big Bird, I’m here to get your a** out of here, I think you’ve been chilling for long enough.” Dick jerks, crying out and Jason hurries over, examining the wound. Not only is it lodged so deep in the wood that one of Goldie’s super friends could have put it there, the blade seems to have partially frozen to the man’s hand, and the ground. Bright scarlet oozes down, the owner of said appendage’s expression contorted in agony.

He bends down, hands wrapping around the hilt, “alright Dickie, on three” the downed bird stares at him uncomprehendingly, parts blue-ish lips, and does nothing else. “One, Two-” he strains, yanking hard. Time seems to freeze, then it’s coming loose and Jason can practically _feel_ the green on the edges of his vision before it clears. Dick’s choked off cry of absolute _pain_ will do that to you.

“Well this is alarming” he’d fallen to the ground, right on his a** from the momentum. _This never happened._ Goldie probably won’t remember anyway. Speaking of which,

“So much for the long arm of the law, huh Sir Damsel?” He asks, leveraging said man up. They begin to move, with Jason taking pretty much all of the big bird’s weight. He glances over his shoulder. “Hey, stay awake, it’s-snow fun doing this all by myself, eh Dickie?” Said man’s eyes open blearily, he hadn’t even noticed they’d closed.

A soft, hacking cough that’s supposed to be a chuckle echoes through the warehouse as they leave.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The puns continue, or at least Dick thinks they do, thinks they were there, are there. Maybe. A voice, low and harsh, but comforting somehow anyway. It’s familiar, like the scent of gunpowder and- something else. He doesn’t know, but the only thing that matters is that he’s safe, anyway. He feels like it, so Dick must be in good hands. 

Sometime later, he’s not going to even _try_ to think about it. Everything took forever and yet was a blur all at once. The _numbness_ is being weird, he thinks it might be turning to pain, to cold. That can’t be right though, cause there’s also warmth. It’s there, he knows it is. Just at the very edges of the other sensations. He thinks he might see a Red X a few times, Bruce makes an appearance too, as well as many others. Sometimes they lurk in the corners, sometimes he thinks they might be speaking to him, but he doesn’t _know._ Several times the blade goes through his hand, he’s suddenly there, in the warehouse. Choking on water, on air; cold engulfing him _over_ and _over_ and _over._

Little Wing is a constant, the man’s touch, his voice, his words and actions. Sometimes it is the Red Hood. Probing questions, but not very harsh ones. Light contact, but not like before. No fists, no demands. It’s gentle, in a way; he slowly relaxes, responding to what he now thinks is most likely to be real, and _feeling_ returns. Not a lot, but it’s enough. There’s heat nearby, caring warmth as well. He feels better at some point, both physically and mentally. Bliss finds him soon after, lifting him up and into the wonderful state that is unconsciousness.

* * *

  
  
  


Dickie seems pretty out of it, Jason notes. The man had started muttering under his breath soon after they got to his nearest safe house. 

Well, at least it was better than the complete lack of responsiveness Blüd’s sole hero had been showing earlier. His pulse had been so slow earlier, Hood had totally not freaked out.

Freezing, feverish, and having some kind of panic attack on his couch, was better than nothing. 

He approached the downed bird cautiously. 

Dick flinched, pulling the surrounding warm blankets closer, letting out a muffled whimper, eyes blown wide in fear and sickness.

“It’s okay, Big Bird. It’s just me,” he sat down, glancing at said vigilante’s trembling hands. Taking a tentative sip of the cocoa as Jason held the cup, Dick’s eyes cleared just a little.

It was working a little, but he knew there was more they had to do, and Goldie wouldn’t like it. So, easing the man up, murmuring assurances all the way, Jason practically carried him to the bathroom. The hand would have to be cleaned and bandaged, Dickie needed to get out of those clothes, and a bath was in order.

Jason did not feel like working the clothes slowly off the elder’s stiff limbs while the man freaked out, but he didn’t really want to scare him either with a knife. So he was careful not to let Dick see it as he sliced neatly through cloth.

Wow, that’s a lot of bruises. They covered his brother’s torso and thighs, a blue mockery painted across his body. Defensive marks on Big Bird’s forearms nearly had Jason seeing red- or green, but he managed to reign it in long enough to help said hero into the bathtub before the man collapsed.

Shaking, arms wrapped around himself while backed into the corner of Jason’s two-star-hotel-esque bathtub, Dick looked unnaturally small. So he avoided looking at the beaten bird for most of the time they spent there. 

The water was lukewarm at first, and he poured more in, each time with a little more heat. 

“Cold,” Dick muttered, huddling as he cradled the injured hand.

“I know Dickie, it can’t be too warm at first, you know that.”

Getting said man out was an ordeal in itself, not to mention bandaging the hand, towelling him dry, and then re-dressing him, but somehow Jason managed it by- he checked his watch- next morning. They made it out to the living room with a half asleep Goldie, who despite already drifting off, clung insistently to the younger. 

He settles them down on the couch, weary of injuries, and resigns himself to wait for when Dick’s grip would inevitably slacken. Spoiler alert: it didn’t, at least not while Jason was awake enough to feel it. They snuggled in, and drifted off, warm at last.

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is!  
> Please tell me what you thought  
> I worked really hard on this  
> And I hope it lives up to expectations  
> Remember, I can always write a sequel  
> Just ask  
> And if enough people do, I will eventually  
> Make sure to go to the first fic in this Dick "Whumptober" Grayson series to give me more prompts  
> I’ll try to post every 3 to 5 days  
> Happy Whumptober everyone!
> 
> Stay whelmed,  
> -Silver


End file.
